Little Miss Stella
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: sequel to A Little Mac Man If you liked that, I hope you like this too. How does Mac keep up with two Stellas? Please R&R. Thank you!


Little Miss Stella 

**© Toni**

Two identical heads of wild curly hair are standing in the kitchen. One's standing, with a white 'Kiss the Missus' apron around her waist, the other is sitting on a bar stool with a wooden spoon in her hand. She was trying to reach the mixing bowl in front of her to…

"Mommy! I wanna lick the bowl!" _our _little daughter Alexis exclaimed from her seat. "Hurry, before big bwother gets here." She banged the spoon on the counter.

Too late, her big brother Michael is already home. I fetched him from school and we just arrived home. I'm sure my wife Stella heard the car in the garage. "In a minute, baby. I'll just put this batter in this pan and we'll be having brownies after dinner today, okay?"

"Mmm-kay!" the five-year-old said, still banging the spoon. Her mess of curly hair, identical with her mother's was bound by a fluffy pink clip. Then she went on singing her current favorite song, 'Somewhere Out There'. Hawkes gave her the 'American Tail' DVD set for her 5th birthday not too long ago. She has watched it a handful of times ever since. _ "Someone's thinkin' of me an wuvin' me tuh-night."_

"And who might that be, Ally?" Stella asked her lovingly pinching her cute nose. "A prince charming?" Ally giggled.

They don't know I'm watching them. They're baking brownies – something that Stella learned and became good at during her stay-at-home days after the birth of Ally. Our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Underwood was more than happy to teach Stella how to cook and baking was what interested her most. Gone are the days of Chinese take-out and pizza. Stella's as good with food as she is with chemicals, as she said.

"Lick the bowl, now, Mommy?" the little girl whined. It's Stella's turn to giggle. And then she gave the mixing bowl, streaked with chocolate goop, to our daughter. She started swirling and she offered her finger to her mother, "Mommy, you first."

"Aw, thank you, baby," and she gave a little lick. Stella swirled her own index finger in the goop and putting on the tip of Ally's nose.

"Mommy, whatcha doin'?" Ally laughed out loud at her mother. Her green eyes were sparkling. Stella gave her a kiss on her plump cheek.

I took that as an opportunity to approach the two. Stella spotted me first and I made a "sshh…" gesture. She got to message and went to distract little Ally.

"One more chocolate, Ally?" Stella said, batting her long eyelashes at her.

"Mm-kay," she said pushing the bowl over to Stella's hands. "Just don't hog 'em all. I want… hey!" she cried out when I covered her eyes from behind.

"Guess who!" our eight-year-old son Mikey said. He entered the kitchen when he smelled the baking brownies. He went straight to his mom to give her a kiss.

Ally's little hands – sticky hands – started touching my rough ones. "I know this… don't tell me!" she exclaimed. She tried prying my hands off her eyes. "Lemme guess… _Daddy!"_ I let go of her and kissed her on the nose. "I knew it!"

"Oh, you did?" I said pulling her on my lap. She giggled some more. "How did you?"

Ally was all messy around her mouth – with chocolate. Before she could answer me, she saw something else, "Hey, you! That's mine!" Apparently, Michael got his hands on the mixing bowl and is 'cleaning it up'. "Mommy! Tell big bwother that's mine." The tears start forming in her eyes.

"Ally, it's okay, you can share," I said bouncing her on my lap. Mikey won't hand it back to his sister so she starts sobbing against my chest. "Michael, share it with your sister."

Mike perked up with the sound of his first name; that meant I'm serious about my warning. "Okay. Here you go, Ally," he said. "I'm sorry." His thumb still has chocolate on it and he smeared it on his sister's cheek. And then he sunk into Stella's arms.

The little girl sniffed once and then grabbed the bowl from her brother. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Daddy… you want?" she said pushing the bowl into my left hand. She was looking at me with those beautiful eyes and batting her eyelashes. How could I say no?

I took the 'Bowl of Bonasera-Taylor DNA' from her little hands and take my share. "Mmm… yum!" I say. "Stella, this is better than the batch you did last week." She blushed. "You're becoming really good at this, honey."

"Thanks," she said, "but I'm not quitting my day job. The department called and they told me I can go back to work as soon as this month ends." She sat down on one of the stools. "Would that be alright with you? I mean, Mikey's in school in the morning and Ally's in pre-school, too. We can pick them up by midday and they can hang out in the lab, like before with this boy over here," she messed up our son's hair.

"How about sitters?" I asked. Ally continued to slurp up with remaining batter and when she finished, she gave the bowl back to Mikey.

"Can't weach it, big bwother," she said. Mikey did what he was asked and received, "Wuv you."

I heard Stella's breath hitch. It sounded like us during the early months of our romantic relationship. Who knew that under that Rambo Stella, there's a tender, loving Stella in there? I did.

"Oh I don't know about babysitters, Mac," she said cleaning up the counter then checking on the brownies. "Off the top of your head, how many babysitters cases have your processed in this quarter alone?" She has a tendency to make every little matter a serious one. It's a bit annoying at times but it reminds me of the in-lab banter we have. "And besides, I don't feel safe leaving my children alone with someone I don't know."

Mikey gets a glass of orange juice for himself and his sister. Ally was following him around the kitchen, a head-and-a-half shorter than her brother. "Alright then," I reply. It's true; I have approximately 12 cases involving babysitters in the past three months or so. "We can always have Danny or Don to watch over these kids."

"Danny?" Mikey said upon hearing his _hero's_ name.

"And 'tective Flack?" Ally said after that. They grew very attached to those two over the years. Partly because they are godchildren to Danny and Don; Danny is very fond of children (who would've known) and Don wanting to have one of his own.

"Uncle Danny said he would teach me how to pitch next time," my son said downing the glass of juice in his hand. "He promised."

"Uh-huh," the little girl jumped up and down, "And 'tective Flack said we'll ride in his limo… with your gween light, though – whatever that means." She giggled, her hair dancing behind her.

Then that's settled. All we have to do is to tell them that apart from being a CSI and a Homicide detective, Danny Messer and Donald Flack, Jr. are our unofficial babysitters.

Ally finally had her hands on the walnut brownies after we had dinner. She and her mother are curled up on the couch in front of the TV watching another episode of "Sponge Bob Squarepants". Mikey and I were on dish duty tonight.

"Mac, could you bring the milk bottle over here?" Stella said from the living room. Or that's what I _think _she said. When watching this particular show, Ally wants the volume high up and no talking. Just like Stella when she's discussing a case. "Thank you, love."

Before I could even open the fridge door, Ally came sauntering in with chocolate around her lips. She's a bit of a messy eater. "Mommy tol' me to get the tissues fwom you, Daddy," she said pulling on my pant leg. "An' she wants some milk too." I sat her on the table, her legs swinging on the edge. "Whacha doin', Mikey?"

"Drying the dishes," her brother said holding a yellow sponge. "Wanna help?" he said, extending his hand to her.

But instead of saying yes or no, Ally screamed. In no time, Stella was in the room with us and I almost dropped the milk bottle. "What happened here?" she frantically asked. Ally was sobbing and Mikey was dumbfounded.

"What did I do now?" he sighed.

Stella cradled our daughter in her arms and quieted her down enough for her to talk. "Mikey… he… hurt… Sponge Bob!" she managed to blurt out against her mother's chest. "Bad… bwother."

I try to suppress a laugh when I get her point. Mikey was using a yellow sponge – similar to the cartoon character – to dry the dishes. "Uh, baby girl," I say taking her into my arms and drying her tears. I take the sponge from Mikey and show it to her. "Look here, it's not Bobby…"

"SPONGE BOB!" she cried out, cutting me off. Stella and Mikey chuckled. Only two women could shut me up like that… and they are both in the room, the ones with curly hair.

"Okay, sorry," I sigh. This is harder than I pictured. "Alexis, look. This is not _Sponge Bob_. It's just a regular ordinary everyday sponge that we use for cleaning things. See?" I hold the synthetic sponge in front of her and she reaches out to poke it. "See? No arms, no legs, no necktie."

Ally smiled. "No pants, too, Daddy," she whispered. Then she wrapped her chubby arms around my neck, "I'm sowwy, Daddy. Wuv you." I hug her back.

"Okay, people," Stella said, "the cartoon won't play by itself out there and these brownies won't finish themselves, would they?"

"Race you to the TV, Ally!" Mikey said running to the living room, leaving Stella and me in the kitchen.

"Wait for you, okay?" she sweetly said kissing me on the cheek. She walked to the living room, with Ally on her left hip and the milk and brownies in her right hand.

I am very lucky to have Stella in my life. Without her, I would still be a mess – directionless workaholic cooped up I self-pity. Without her, I wouldn't have Michael and Alexis. Without her, I wouldn't have Mac Taylor today.

I guess I have my Stella… and my little miss Stella. I could keep up with one, another one wouldn't be a problem.

**09.07.06**


End file.
